


Papers

by Jinmukang



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Arson, Brotherly Bonding, Bruce Wayne isn't in the story but he's emotionally constipated and it effects his kids, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know where this came from but eh oh well, I mean what more do you want in a dick and Jason bonding fic????, No editing we die like mne, Two boys being angsty, boys out in town catching criminals and being dumb depressed dorks in the process, someone stop my tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang
Summary: "How about all the times after?" Jason demands, his voice rising. "The ignorin'? The half-assed team ups? The hollow promises? I saw the way you looked at me; like I was scum and I didn't deserve to be Robin. You hardly talked to me unless you were forced to. I think the first time you ever actually tried to really talk to me was after I died, like you're trying to make up for somethin'."Dick's blood runs cold, like he's been doused with liquid nitrogen.Oh.So it's about that.His stomach hurts and his throat is dry. "Jason," he says slowly, "it wasn't like that. I didn't hate you then."Jason rolls his eyes. "Bullshit."
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 35
Kudos: 477





	Papers

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea came out of nowhere! Was trying to work on my Bad Things Happen Bingo series and next thing I knew I was on a different document writing a different story! Oops!
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Warnings tho, minimal effort went into the editing ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

"This is bullshit," Jason says and Dick grits his teeth, ignoring him. "I mean. There's no reason for me to just sit here with my thumb in my ass. I could've been out of these ropes hours ago-"

Jason shifts and Dick hisses as his movement pulls at the ropes around his hands. They're tied up together; Indiana Jones style. Two chairs, back to back, ropes around their chests and wrists, keeping them not only connected to the chairs but also to each other. To make matters worse, their ankles are tired to the legs of their chairs, so there's hardly any moving room. And any movement from one or the other of them will rub both of their skin raw.

"-if you would just suck it up and do your part," Jason finishes, his voice strained and angry. 

Dick sighs and leans back against the chair, closing his eyes and trying to calm his growing frustration and… annoyance. Jason is right. The knots aren't that professional. Nor are their captors for that matter. If they work together, they can, without a doubt, be out of this warehouse and safely on their separate ways back home within 15 minutes. But they can't. And Jason isn't _getting_ it. 

"You know full well why we have to stay put," Dick growls, opening his eyes to glare at the wall facing him. The room they've been stuffed in is small and relatively empty; located in the center of the warehouse. It looks like some sort of control room, desks littering the walls where phones or computers would sit, chairs stuffed under and facing the glass windows leaving a clear view towards the rest of the building. On the other side of the walls, their captors work hard to load various boxes into trucks. Dick's not one hundred percent sure by what's in those boxes, but he does know it isn't anything legal, if the way they immediately knocked out and tied up Jason and Dick when they accidentally stumbled upon their operation was anything to go by. 

"Theses chumps don't even know who we are," Jason snarls, "for all they know, we're just two random dudes who were at the wrong place at the wrong time. I doubt they've even seen a single picture of your face in their entire lives."

Jason's right. Blüdhaven doesn't know or care about billionaires and their kids from Gotham. Whatever Dick does in Blüdhaven will not reach any sort of attention as long as his name isn't learned and reported to some high end reporter that already knows billionaire Bruce Wayne's eldest ward Dick Grayson lives in Blüdhaven. 

Which, considering how low life half of these crooks look, there's no chance any of them would know Dick or have the means to get information to anyone without first getting themselves arrested. And even if they did get arrested, Officer Grayson is more known than any other title of his in this city. He'd like to keep it that way.

However. If he escapes. If he gets these guys arrested. If they spill that he and some other man escaped easily from one of their busts, his name will end up in the papers. Somehow. Eventually. But it will. It will end up in the papers and people will turn heads and they'll wonder how a rookie cop can possibly fight his way out of the middle of a warehouse filled with enemies with guns without a scratch. Investigations will be run. Theories thrown out. Conspiracies made. Dick Grayson isn't only connected to Nightwing. If he's found out, the rest of the family is found out. 

And of Batman is found out, that could mean cataclysm. 

Worst case scenario, of course. But Dick's been raised to prepare for those. 

"We stay put," Dick says for the thousandth time. "We didn't know these guys were here, and what better way to figure out what's going on than to sit back and watch?"

"And get ourselves shot once they decide keeping us alive is too much trouble?" Jason retorts. "How about we escape, get our masks on, and come back and kill it before whatever this is begins-"

"Jason-"

"-because as much as you hate me I'm not in the mood to die in some warehouse. Tried it. Not that fun. Don't recommend."

Dick falls silent, like he always does whenever Jason decides to remind them of his own death. Which is often enough, but Dick has yet to get used to it. He still has nightmares about going back home to Gotham to find a new grave without Bruce having told him. He didn't even get to go to Jason's funeral because Bruce never told him. He didn't know until he got home and asked where Jay was. Sometimes, he'll wake up in a cold sweat and find himself dialing Tim or Damian or Cass or sometimes Jason at three in the morning just to hear their voices and know they're okay. Alive. 

But that's not the only thing in that sentence that has him stilling. The latter part of that sentence he almost expected. The former though… 

"I don't hate you," Dick says, his voice quieter than what he meant. His heart drops when Jason snorts and shifts behind him, rubbing the ropes again, but Dick hardly even notices the rough fibers on his wrists because he's too busy scowling at the floor, trying to figure out where Jason got _that_ idea. 

"I know you have a complex, Dickhead," Jason says, his voice so cold Dick almost shivers, "but you can drop it when it's just you and me. You love bein' the perfect big brother. And I know to keep that image you have to pretend with me. Just drop it. I understand, alright?"

"What are you _talking_ about?" Dick demands, his voice squeaking. He's never- Jason and him- how could Jason even think that?! "Jay, I think the world of you-"

Suddenly, the door to the room opens and in walks a young man carrying a red bucket. Dick's stomach drops ever so slightly as the man gives them a small look before pointedly ignoring them as he begins to spread the foul smelling liquid inside the bucket down onto the floor.

Gasoline. Of course. 

The man works quickly, dumping it on the desks and tables, splashing it onto the ground, and Dick remains silent, watching him. Dick can't see Jason, but he's sure Jason is probably feeling rather smug about himself being right about them most likely not going to be kept alive. A few tense moments pass and the bucket is emptied. The man gives them another look, one that's almost apologetic, before he drops the bucket and closes the door. Through the glass windows, Dick can see other crooks beginning to spread gasoline, whatever they were loading now all into trucks, waiting for them to literally burn any evidence. 

Jason clears his throat and Dick sighs. "I'm on it," he says, twisting his wrists. 

"Fuckin' took ya long enough," Jason barks back, twisting his own wrists. 

Dick rolls his eyes and focuses on the knots around their hands. They're tight, and almost just out of reach, but if they work together, they can be free and out before the warehouse burns. "Don't get smug, we _are_ going to continue that last conversation."

"What conversation?" 

"The one where you think I hate you."

"I don't see-" Jason grunts as his hands make it to one of the knots, the rope burns on Dick's skin and he's sure Jason's in just as much pain, but if they don't go they're going to be in even _more_ pain. Burning pain, if one wills. "-why we need to continue a useless conversation we already know the answer to."

"That you're being ridiculous," Dick snaps back, though he lets out a huff of relief as his wrists are finally released. His arms shoot to his chest to undo the knots keeping him and Jason pinned to their chairs while he glances outside the window. The crooks have all gotten into their cars and are looking ready to go. All but one whose carefully taking a match out from a small box in his hands. 

Jason grunts and the ropes become loose, allowing room for Dick to grab at the ropes around his legs. Just a few more knots to freedom.

"Ridiculous?" Jason asks. "You're really calling me ridiculous?"

"What have I ever done to make you think I hate you?!" Dick snaps back. The ropes are all loose and Dick shoots to his feet, stretching out his sore muscles, watching as the crook drops a lit match towards the ground. Fire begins to steadily spread. Dick turns his glare towards Jason whose already jumping on tables to reach what appears to be a vent shaft in the ceiling. He begins to unscrew the cover. "I literally just invited you over for dinner."

"After you asked for my help on a case, that is," Jason murmurs. The vent cover comes loose just as the fire reaches the door to their room. It should hold off the flames for a little while. Just long enough for Jason to heft himself inside the vents and for Dick to follow after. Flames lick at his shoes just as he crawls inside the entrance of the maze of tubes. 

"That's the only way to ever get you over, of anything, I think you hate me!" 

"Fuck off, Goldie."

"No. No, I want you to give me a _good_ reason why I hate you."

Jason remains silent, and Dick can only see his backside from the position they are in, but Dick can tell he must be grinding his teeth. He's annoyed and frustrated. Good. That's the only way to get anything useful out of him. 

"How about throwing me into Arkham?" Jason finally says when they reach what looks to be a cover leading towards the outside world. Thank God all warehouses in Blüdhaven follow the same plan. "You don't throw loved ones into Arkham."

"I wasn't in the best mindset back then," Dick says, getting really angry. "And neither were you. You tried to kill Damian."

Jason snorts and jumps out of the vent, landing in a crouch in an alleyway. Dick follows after and the moment his feet touch the ground the glass windows of the warehouse explode outwards. Past the roaring of the flames, Dick can thankfully already hear sirens. 

"God, you're so far into your own illusion that even you believe it," Jason says, turn towards Dick with a hard glare. Dick meets it head on, folding his arms across his chest and trying to ignore how much his heart pounds. "Fine. How bout the time I first showed up, eh? Remember our first meeting? The things you said?"

"Bruce gave you my room without telling me, of course I'd be upset finding some kid in my bed!" 

"How about all the times after?" Jason demands, his voice rising. "The ignorin'? The half-assed team ups? The hollow promises? I saw the way you looked at me; like I was scum and I didn't deserve to be Robin. You hardly talked to me unless you were forced to. I think the first time you ever actually tried to really talk to me was after I died, like you're trying to make up for somethin'."

Dick's blood runs cold, like he's been doused with liquid nitrogen. 

Oh. 

So it's about that.

His stomach hurts and his throat is dry. "Jason," he says slowly, "it wasn't like that. I didn't hate you then."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Bullshit."

"Jason, really, I didn't-"

"Then I hated you," Jason hisses, his face resending, green flashing in his narrowed eyes. "I. Hated. You. All I ever was was Dick Grayson 2.0. The next model. I bet you loved that, loved being missed so much by dear Dad that he got another kid to try and fill the void you left."

How does Dick even try to respond? What can he even hope to explain this? His silence is taken as some sort of answer by Jason, because Jason gives a final scoff and turns around towards the alleyway, flames of the warehouse behind them flickering light onto his back. 

"I'm done. I'm goin' home, I'm tired of this shit," Jason says and Dick steps forward, feeling panicked. Desperate. 

"Jason-" he grabs onto the sleeve of Jason's leather jacket and Jason stops, stiffens. Muscles coiled like a cobra ready to spring. But he doesn't move. Doesn't say anything, and Dick chokes for words. "Jason, it wasn't ever like that. You weren't the next model. I didn't _hate_ you…" 

Jason thankfully remains silent as Dick struggles to find words. The warehouse behind him continues to burn loudly, almost as loud as the thoughts in his head. Sirens approach ever closer and Dick knows he and Jason should probably get going less they wanted to be asked questions. He swallows. Now or never Grayson. 

"I didn't hate you," he repeats, heart in his throat. "I… I was… Jason I was jealous of you."

Jason sucks in a breath and stiffens even more than what he had been before. But he doesn't make a sound, doesn't say anything. Dick's about to plow on and explain himself, but then the sirens finally arrive in the form of fire trucks and police cars. A rumble makes the ground shake below their feet as a section of the warehouse must have collapsed. It's not safe here. So he tightens his grip on Jason's jacket and begins to tug him away. 

Jason takes a few stiff, reluctant steps until he finally complies; the task of leaving becoming more important than whatever emotions or thoughts he's experiencing. And Dick knows he's thinking. He can practically hear the unspoken words Jason perhaps wants to scream. His jaw is tensing and a vein in his forehead is popping. Eyes turned downwards as if looking at Dick would cause him to explode. Once they're towards safety, Dick knows Jason will want to argue, and as much as Dick wants to keep his embarrassing feelings over Jason's status in his life, he knows he must give his tea before Jason spills the kettle. 

Dick walks, dragging Jason behind him, until the roar of fire and the screaming of sirens become no louder than the sounds of barking dogs and traffic. Nothing but a sound easily ignored in the distance. 

The street they're walking on is a street Nightwing hardly ever has to patrol. Blüdhaven is nothing like Gotham where some parts of the city are less corrupt than others. In Blüdhaven, every neighborhood has something fishy about it, but this street is a no man's-land. A street the gangs have decided safe territory between each other for some reason no one has explained. Dick suspects it's because of the man who owns a Chinese shop down by the corner who will give a free meal to anyone who asks. A kind soul and an authentic Chinese meal is enough to make even the worst of enemies lay down arms for a little while. 

It seems like an appropriate place for a conversation like this between a man like Dick and a man like Jason. Even if the sign on the door says it's closed for the night.

Doesn't really matter if it's closed. Lockpicks normally cancel that out. 

He should feel bad about breaking into a restaurant like this, but it's not like they can talk in the middle of the streets about Robin and Batman, and Dick's apartment is too far away. Jason would definitely found enough words to go ham on Dick before they can even get a cab towards Dick's place. 

So this is going to be as private as Dick can get it. He'll leave a little cash for the owner and an apology note on the back of some receipt paper. Hopefully no trouble with the gangs start up because of this. 

He sits down in a booth and Jason almost numbly sits down across from Dick, eyebrows drawn together and crows feet becoming more and more defined as the seconds tick.

Dick takes a deep breath, and Jason jaw pops through his skin, the sound of grinding teeth threatening to turn into harsh words and wrong conclusions. It's now or never. 

Now or never.

"You remember when I first came to Gotham as Nightwing?" Dick asks, Jason doesn't answer but the flash of recognition in his eyes gives it away. Dick continues. "You thought Bruce wanted you to fight me to prove you worthy of the costume. Next thing we knew we were working together because Alfred accidentally got kidnapped while disguised as Two-Face. But at the time, I couldn't stop thinking about how you fought. How small you were. How… how _good_ you were. You were way better than I was when I was your age. You knew how to throw a punch." Dick rubs his jaw where Jason had landed a lucky hit during their first fight. He smiles sadly. "And… and Bruce sending you to fight me seemed like… like something that he _would_ do. I… for most of my life I've done nothing but try and live up to his expectations, and the moment I let him down, the moment I scared him just a little, he took my colors away and gave them to some kid who looked tougher and smarter in every way. He gave you my room. My suit. And- and it scared me. To know I was so easily replaced.

"… You weren't Dick Grayson 2.0. I was the prototype Jason Todd."

A beat of silence. Dick can't bring himself to look at Jason because of the shame he knows that it flushing his cheeks. He sucks in a breath when Jason finally talks.

"That's ridiculous," Jason says, voice quiet. "All he's ever done is show me how to be you. Everything I did, he told me how you did it better first."

"It wasn't just that, Jay," Dick says, his voice beginning to feel tight in his throat. "He adopted you."

At this admission, Jason's face becomes one of confusion and Dick bites his lip, looking down at the table between them. 

"What are you talking about? He adopted you too."

A bitter laugh escapes Dick's mouth. "When Bruce took me in, we had no intentions of becoming anything to each other. I had a dad. He didn't want liabilities. I was simply a witness to a case that the cops were ignoring. Batman needed me to take down Tony Zucco, and nothing else. I'm sure if I never found out that Bruce Wayne and Batman were the same person and proved myself to be of some help, he would have sent me to the nearest orphanage to be rid of me. 

"And maybe that changed. Maybe we became more. I don't know. All I know is that I was simply his ward, and by the time I thought maybe I wanted him to be my dad and maybe he wanted me as a son… we fought and I left and it never happened. I'm not Bruce Wayne's son, Jason. I was his ward. Legally, he has nothing on me anymore. But you? You were there for hardly a few weeks before I saw him planning the adoption papers. It shouldn't make me angry, or jealous, but at the time I really… I really couldn't help it. And I took my anger out on you. I didn't mean to, but I did, and I'm sorry. You were never my enemy, Bruce was. But I lost my chance of a dad and you had it handed to you on a silver platter and I forgot that it's Bruce who's behind everything, not the people he brings into it. It took me a long time to remember that again, but it wasn't soon enough. You died and… and I realized that I missed the opportunity to get to know the little brother I've always… always wanted.

"A-and I understand if you're still angry with me. You didn't deserve that, no matter my reasons. You can decide to never talk with me again and I'll let you. I won't hate you for it, because Jason you're my baby brother, no matter what the papers say, and you always will be. But I'll respect whatever you decide."

Dick shoots up a hand up to his eye and quickly wipes away a small drop of moisture before it could drop. Jason doesn't comment on it, doesn't say a thing, just stares at Dick like he has two heads. The silence stretches and Dick's anxiety spikes. 

"What?!" Dick demands, "say something!"

Jason frowns and shakes his head. "Sometimes I forget how big of an idiot you are," Jason finally says, and Dick swallows, preparing for rejection. 

"The papers do matter, don't they? To you?" 

Dick worries his bottom lip, he's pretty sure he's going to bite through skin any second now. Jason continues.

"If there's… one thing I know about bat bastard, it's that he's bad at going all the way for people. You gotta meet him halfway, and he might surprise you."

"Are you… are you trying to give me advice about Bruce?" Dick says, not sure how to feel now. Scared? Hopeful? Confused? He almost laughs when Jason scowls at him and leans back in the booth, folding his arms across his chest. 

"All I'm sayin' is that if the papers matter, I'm sure it's not too late."

"That would make us brothers, you know. Legally," Dick says, grinning, something around his heart beginning to loosen. 

Jason shrugs. "Up until this point, I thought that already was how it was. If you wanna make it official, I won't fight you on it. I won't... complain."

Something joyful bursts out of Dick's mouth, a weight that he never knew was there lifted. He dissolves into wheezing chuckles, leaning forward in his chair until his forehead rests on the table, his hands curling around his head and grasping at his hair. He laughs out of… happiness. Relief. It's the happiest he's felt in a long time, and all of a sudden it really doesn't matter if Bruce had ever adopted him or not. He still has brothers. Might still have a dad.

"I was graspin' at straws for things you'd hate me about, ya know," Jason continues when Dick's laughing begins to calm. Dick glances upwards to see Jason staring pointedly across the store. "I'm not angry about the shit we've put each other through as kids. Not really. As much as a pain in the ass you are, you are… fuck you are a brother to me."

"I…" Dick takes a deep breath. Smiles. "I really appreciate that, little wing."

"Yeah well don't get used to it because I'm not say it again," Jason snaps, standing up from the table. Dick wipes his eyes before he too stands up. He grins at Jason and Jason rolls his eyes. "Now, if we're all done being mushy, we have a patrol to go on, don't we?"

Dick chuckles and begins to lead the way towards the door after dropping some cash on the front desk of the restaurant. "I heard a warehouse burnt down a few blocks from here," he offers, "how do you feel about catching some arsonists and maybe finding some kind of underground scandal in the process?"

" _That_ would be my pleasure."

**Author's Note:**

> Eh?


End file.
